The MarySue Diaries
by A-Kubrick-Spent
Summary: This is not the story of Brittany, the most beautiful, wonderful girl on Persephone, sought by all because of the aforementioned beauty and wonder. No, this is the story of her handmaiden, Tabitha, who has trouble with reality, the fourth wall, and such
1. Chapter the First and The Story Begins!

Prolouge: The Background

Once, long ago, in a solar system far, far away... There lived a woman. But, calling her a woman was not something that many did. Those "Many" called her a living Goddess, for she was so beautiful as to inspire men from all over the planet she lived on, called Persephone, to ask for her hand in marriage. They came from far and away, bearing flowers, chocolates, poems comparing her to stars and sun alike, and the promise of a thousand slaves to tend to her every whim. Her eyes were a strange, luminous, and altogether beautiful mix of brown and red, which outlined a startlingly black pupil, while the rest of her eyes shown a color like moonstone; creating an effect that caused many men to drown in ecstasy within their borders, so captivating were they two orbs of light. Her legs were tanned a light, golden color, which put all others to shame. Her face was shaped just like an almond, and within it was set perfectly her two jewel like eyes, a petite nose that crinkled oh-so-cutely when she laughed (A sound like a clear bell that could move the coldest of hearts), and, of course, a mouth filled with sparkling, even teeth, which hid behind them a tongue that made her voice, which could convince the birds out of their tree perches, and put their sweet songs to shame whenever she decided to grace the world with her songs that rang out through hill and vale like only her singing could ring out. Her kindness to every and all creatures, man or animal, was renowned, and would be the envy of the Saints if they would stop being Saintly long enough to feel some semblance of Envy. Her hair was long and silky, the color of the sun at dusk.

Truly, her lineage could be traced through the ages, to Pre-history, when man was not the true master of his world. Her name was Brittany. And this is not her story.

If you truly would like see her story, or that of her many ancestors, one would suspect the Lord of the Rings section on .

No, this is the story of her best friend and faithful Hand-Maiden, Tabitha. Tabitha Roseawauld. An altogether less than noticeable girl, who had voices in her head, a lax head of hair, a less then shining personality, and a habit of substituting "Bat-Shit-Crazy Loco" with baked goods. This is her story, in her own words, and the grand adventure that would soon consume the both of them...

***

Chapter the First: The Beginning of the Fan-Fic

Yep, that's me. Tabitha H. Roseawauld. Don't ask what the 'H' is for, though. I don't know meself. Britt's old man took that particular secret to his grave. Least he didn't take his fortune, or we two both would be screwed so royally. Yeah.

Currently, Britt is at another one of the Ball things that the Upper-Crust is so fond of. I'm not quite sure why, but I encourage her to go to them anyway. Maybe she'll finally meet someone who like her because she's Britt, and not because you could probably deflect a bullet off of her ass. Still, that's a good hour away until she comes home, so I keep the shovel out just in case. Trusty ol' thing, it's saved us a lot of male trouble more times then I care to count. Seeing as Rusty is right close, I can relax and sift through the fanmail.

Relax? Maybe not... I gulp every time I see the pile, and it seems to grow bigger every day. I've long since quit looking in them; a good 99.9% of them all say the same thing. "Oh, Brittany, please, let me take you away from all this, and into a life of grandeur and with slaves to cater to your every whim!" Oh, please. Most likely, Britt would simply have tea with them, free the slaves and give them some kind of bonus, then wander back here after a bit of bird genocide.

Speaking of that...

Damn, it's those animal activists again, demanding that Britt stop singing, because she had a habit of putting all the birds to shame (So much so that they would oftentimes spontaneously combust out of jealously). Shame, really. Britt loves bird of all kinds, almost more so then anything else. Almost, but not quite, mind. Ah, well, that one goes into the fire. I'm not sure why we even pay for heating in the winter. We've got enough letters lying around to heat a good portion of the neighborhood- and we live in the Mansion District. Still, twelve million credits has to go somewhere, and it might as well pay some poor sods bills.

Well, there is always some more. Another poem, it seems. I think this one is comparing her eyes to the ocean.

It's strange, really. I think I've looked into Britts' eyes more then most, being with her for a good twenty two years (Out of a mutual twenty three), and, each time I do, I get a little voice in the back of my head that urges me to go to sleep. It's a good thing that I don't listen to the voices in my head very often- _especially_ George. He just hasn't been the same, ever since Fred disappeared. Luna is alright, she even sounds like Britt, except... well, Smarter. No offence to Britt, of course. I love her to death, but she really isn't suited in the thinking department. All beauty, no brains, type of deal. That's why I do all the letters. If she had her way, she'd probably invite all of them over for tea on Sunday.

But, back to her eyes... yeah. I followed Ginny's (The voice's) advice, one day, and fell asleep. I dreamed a bad dream. I'll let you use your imagination, but it wasn't pretty or very clean. Let's just say that it involved a basketful of puppies and a length of cheese wire. No, not pretty at all. Needless to say, I don't listen to Ginny at all anymore.

I barely look at the letters anymore, just the names. If it's another suitor, then into the fire it goes! One name catches my eyes, but thankfully it's just someone with a similar name. This guy, oh ho ho... He was blueberry banana-nut muffin, that one (And I'm quite sure it's rather hard to be a Blueberry Banana-Nut muffin). His name was (Hopefully not [i]is[/i]) Athlerton Wringe. Oh, what a card he was. I still remember it clearly; at one of those balls Britt goes to, two men got into a fight over her, and, like always, they proposed a duel. Well, I was there when it happened. I don't remember the poor sods name, it was over so fast. Athlerton bashed away his long sword, knocked him down, and pulled out his knife. Before any of us (There was a good dozen spectators for this one) could react, he was on top of this guy, and (I shit you not), _Carved out his still-beating HEART_. The expressions on our collective faces ran the gamut from mildly surprised to slight discomfort, and I think Britt and I were somewhere in the middle of that.

Than, the muffin head came over- WITH the heart in his hands- and kneeled before Britt like some knight with a Dragon's heart. "My Lady, I give to you the heart of the fallen in the hopes that you will give me _your_ heart." And Britt said, "Thank You, but you can keep it." At about this time, I took a hold of Britt's hand and started to run. Fast.

Just thinking about the muffin-head makes me want to grab Rusty and whack someone with a beard on the head. You know, just to be sure.

That's a part of why I'm not really all that jealous of Britt, besides her being my best friend and stupefyingly nice. All the losers and psychotic dredges seem to congregate to her, hoping to cop a feel of her (Admittedly large) chest.

Sufffice to say, after the whole Muffin incident, I pulled some strings with our mutual friends on the staff. She never went to another Ball unsupervised.

The clock chimes; five minutes to ten. She should be here at ten(ish), and it is a cold day in Hell when Britt breaks a promise, especially to me. I grab my shovel, and wait by the door. Five minutes later, as expected, Britt lets herself in. And, as expected, some douche in a suit is there with her, trying to take her home and out of the dress. Before he could speak, I said (Brandishing Rusty like a mace), "Begone with ye, ya pansy!"

"Away, slave, I must convin-"

_**CRACK**_! "That's enough out of YOU, ya pansy! And, as for the rest of ye, shove off! And take this one with ye!" A good two dozen man shaped shadows remove themselves. Satisfied, I shut the door and lock it, placing Rusty in his accustomed place in the Hall.

Britt is in the sitting room, dancing with herself and humming softly. Her hair is done and teased up in ways that I don't think gravity would normally condone. But, then again, this [i]is[/i] Britt. Physics takes a back seat to her (Most likely to stare at her ass).

Ya know, I don't really understand one thing. Her hair is called Strawberry- Blonde. It's fricken Orange! Since when has a healthy strawberry been _orange_? Shouldn't her hair be red and speckled with seeds if it's called _Strawberry_? And, since it is orange, why not just call it Orange!

_Because God hates you, apparently_, said George.

_Oh, no, actually God quite likes her, haven't you noticed. It's just she is allergic to Rainbows, hence her color confusion. A sad case, really, and one of the worst I've seen. She needs to drink a tonic with cottonseed oil, Dragon phlegm, and a Hippogriff toenail. Oh, and a Jabberwock's blood, of course_, said Luna sagely. Smarter then Britt she may be, but se was more of a Muffin than her anyday.

I ignored them... mostly. "So, Britt, how did it go?"

She stopped humming. "Oh, just wonderful! There was this new man, I think he was named Malcolm. Tabi, he defended a woman's honor! And she was't even there with him! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yep," I said, nodding. "Sounds like a really good man to me. Whoever that woman he defended was, she was damnedly lucky to have someone like him in her corner."

"I know," she said dreamily. "They're going to have a duel and everything. Although, I don't think that he knows the first thing about sword fighting. Do you think he'll be alright?"

"I hope so," I answered truthfully.

"Oh, and Tabi?"

I started to undo the laces and strings that kept her confined in her dress. Fluffy bastard. "Eh?"

"I want to become a Space Pirate!"


	2. Chapter the Second and NotQuitePirates

_I say, did she just ask to become a bloody SPACE PIRATE?!?!_ I think that was George.

_And you call_ me _a muffin_!

_I must agree with Luna, this is quite unexpected_, said Harry.

_She must be some new level of dotty, this one_, added Ron.

_Wait_, said Luna. _Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, Luna, Fred is dead... OH GOD!!! It's Plagiarism!_

I tried my best to ignore them, but it was getting harder to do, they were so loud. "Britt, did you just say what I think and hope you just didn't say... I think?"

_We're not the Harry Potter series! We're gonna get sued!_ Ron was panicking by now.

"Yes, Tabi, I want to become a Space Pirate! Wouldn't it be just wonderful?" Luna was right; Britt could be more of a muffin then she ever could.

_Well,_ said Luna a mite huffily, _It _is _rather challenging to constantly be a Blueberry Bananna-nut Muffin, I'll have you know!_

_Wait,_ Said Hermione. _Isn't this supposed to be in the past?_

_Yes, why?_

_Well, Luna was speaking in present tense, and we were just talking about us being plagerised from the Harry Potter series... Oh, God..._

_What?_

_We just broke the Fourth Wall!_

"Britt, you can't be a Space Pirate," I explained evenly to her. "It's dangerous and unhygienic!"

`_**WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!**_

You have no idea how distracting the voices could be.

_I still say you should go to sleep_, added Ginny.

"But, please, Tabi! Couldn't we try it? For just a little? And, besides, it could be fun!"

"No, Britt! You could get killed, or, even worse, you could get stranded on some rock out in space with someone terrible!"

"But we could find out what the 'H' in your name means!"

_She has a point there,_ said George evenly.

_Everyone, calm down! Just because we could get sucked into a void of incomprehensible dribble and plot-holes doesn't mean we should panic!_

_Plot-Holes? Hermione, this is a bloody_ Perfect _time to panic!_

"I don't care about that! If, say, it was to find out what my first name was, then yeah, sure, I'd go. But it's not."

A look of knowledge passed her face. "You don't what your first name is? I always thought it was Tabitha. But, now we can go out to find your real name! It'll be wonderful, whoever you are!" This could be painful.

"No, Britt. I _know_ my real name, which is and always has and always will be Tabitha. That was just a hypothetical situation."

"Hypo-thet... Oh! Does that mean that you're cold? Just wait by the fire, and I'll get you a blanket."

I'm starting to understand why they call it strawberry-_blonde_. "No, that would be Hypothermia, which I don't have. Hypothetical would be, like... For example, see?"

"Ohhhh!..." She stayed silent after that for a good five minutes.

Not liking silence, I said, "What?"

"Well? What would be that example you spoke of, Tabi?"

_Not the brightest bulb in the box, is she?_

"No, I... You know what, just forget about it. There is no example. But you still shouldn't become a Pirate! Pirates are bad people, they steal stuff from other people-"

"To give to the poor!"

-"And kill people who get in their way-"

"Only the bad people who threaten them first!"

_I think she's talking about Robin Hood,_ Said Harry.

_Who's that, mate?_

_A muggle hero from the Middle Ages. Robbed from the rich, gave to the poor, only killed when he hadn't another choice. All around decent bloke, apparently_

"-And don't like to have women aboard!" So many damn interruptions!

"You know, if you don't like it, you don't have to come, Tabi. I wouldn't want you to feel pressured into this or anything..."

Ah, damnnit! That guilt card she has... I forgot she even _could_ play it at all! She's more devious then I had thought...

_But is she still a muffin?_

"FINE!!! We'll go, since there's no stopping you. Just let me get something real quick..."

"Oh, thank you, Tabi!" And she hugged me quickly before skipping off to the front door.

_I say, we really did pick a great head to hitch in, eh?_ That would be Ron

_Pervert_, said Hermione

_Oi!_

_Well, it's true. Right, Harry?_

_I'm not going to take sides in this..._

_Coward._

_Pansy._

I nipped into a side room and grabbed a bag from under my bed. It was filled to the brim with credits. I figured something like this would happen.

_Does that make her a seer?_

"Shutup." I went back to where Britt was- already at the door, ready to leave. Somehow, she had gotten out of her dress already, and was now dressed more like your common Docks goer.

_Damn._

_Do I have to hurt you?_

_We're incorporeal, remember? You don't have a body to hit!_

_Just wait, Ronald Weasley. Just wait and see. Sleep with one eye open._

_We don't sleep, either._

_You're not helping, Harry._

Pausing to gather Rusty, we left the house that we had lived together in for more then two decades.

***

It was easy getting to the Docks- Once we got a cab, I just had Britt lean forward a bit and the driver made this one free of charge. I still think he overpriced it a bit.

As far as I'm concerned, there is only surefire way to find a Pirate ship at the Persephone docks- You go to the seediest part of the Docks, find the seediest looking ship with the scruffiest looking captain, and be careful not get caught in the bushes. Once inside the ship (If he will let you in), he'll either, A, Take you on as crew or passenger, or, B, Take you to a secluded spot, shoot you in the head, steal your wallet, and dump your body in deep space. Obviously, we were hoping for the first one to happen.

If I ever find this 'Malcolm' person, I'll make sure to introduce him jaw-first to Rusty. Stupid Muffin Head.


	3. Chapter the Third and the Ninja Sheep

Persephone. Good God, I forgot how much of a prick the collective populace is.

_Should we be helping her tell the Story?_

_No, I think that's supposed to be her job._

_And we're not even supposed to be in the present tense, I think. How'd that happen again?_

_When we broke the Fourth Wall, remember?_

_But she really isn't the best of Storytellers, is she?_

_Luna, we can't help her tell her own story! Otherwise, it might as well be in the Third-Person!_

_Oh, come off it! I'm sure that Harry could tell it better!_

_Hey! I had a bloody series written about me, it doesn't mean I could tell the story any better then whoever it is we're possessing could!_

There were very likely _hundreds_ of ships in this heap. Maybe, we'll find someone who's enough of a muffin to let us onboard. And, hopefully, someone who isn't enough of a pervert that'll NOT molest Britt. But, then again, that's what Rusty is for.

I think we must have made quite the pair, walking through the docks; The (To date) Most beautiful girl on the Planet (Or, arguably, the entire System), and some random Biddy wielding a rusty shovel and a bag full of credits.

_Yep, that'd send me for a loop, too._

_Aren't you dead yet?_

_Hundreds of years ago, remember? Why else are we all crowded in here?_

_It is rather spacious in here..._

_Oh, of course Loony has to add her two cents in!_

_She's not bloody Loony, she's just Luna!_

_Why, thank you Harry! I say, is that a Sentinel-class Ship?_

_Eh?_

Add to that, that the voices in my head don't know whether it's now or then, and you have one rather confused duo. Either or, we passed by a bunch of ships which you probably grow a garden in the cracks of. One or two looked promising- but not as 'Piratey' as Britt would like. God, she has perfected the Puppy-Dog Eyes look.

_Isn't it weird? That we switch in between Past and Present Tense?_

_I really don't let it get to me. I just focus on the conversation at hand._

_That's Loony for you-_

_Shutup, Ron._

_Shutup, Ron._

_Shutup, you Prat._

_What did I do?_

_Insult Luna!_

_Exist!_

_Exist!_

_Oh...[_/i]

Finding a ship, in retrospect-

_Oooooh, big word!_

-Was rather much more easy then leaving it. The ship was called "The Rosebud"- Very macho

_Quite_

_I still say that you should go to sleep... I've warmed up the Cheese Wire..._

_What's that all about?_

_Just something between me and Tabi..._

And it's Captain was some bloke named Gerard. Once again, Britt just needed to lean forward to gain entry- I however need to shove a handful of bills into his hands to get past the entryway- That, and shoving Rusty under his nose to prove the point. God, I love that shovel.

The ship was just as clean as I expected it to be- as in, Not at all.

_Neat Freak_

_Probably from being a Maid all her life._

_Quite,_ conceded George.

The crew was pretty nice, all in all. The mechanic, a kid named Billy. Some Poisonberry-Cherry-French Twist of a muffin named Hans as pilot, his sister Muriel, and some random lurker named Rasputin.

_Apparently, his job is to stink up the ship,_ said Hermione.

_At which he is doing a spectacular job_, said Luna in her usual dreamy voice.

_Admirable, even_.

But, that wasn't what attracted Britt to this ship- and hence me having to follow or else be nagged by a guilty concise and a dozen spirits in my head.

_I do NOT nag!_

_Yes, you do._

_Yep._

_I agree._

_They're right, Hermione, you really do._

_The Wackspurtles are probably clogging your thought processes. Want me to draw up an antidote?_

No, it was the cargohold- for, within this majestic crap hole was the Holy Grail of Piratedom- A room full of sheep.

Baa...Baa...Baa... Fricken BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

_She sounds angry_.

And there was Britt- in and among the fluffy menaces, singing the song of Avian Zenocide. And the sheep seemed to have found a new Shepard. Ah, nuts! Muffins, the lot of 'em. Baa baa whitesheep. I'll make a sweater out of one of 'em before this is over if they don't SHUT UP!

_Anger issues?_

The Captain came in- Oh, Joy! Yet another person who I want to introduce to Rusty jaw first. "We're taking off soon- bound for Whitefall, as it were. Planet's Governor type person, Patience-"

-Yet another person whom I care for not a whit-

"-Needs a new herd after a raid by some Reavers. She deems it cheaper to have me haul it for her then send out one of her own ships or buy it from someone on the planet."

"She sure sounds like a muffin to me. There a fair to large Docks on Whitefall?"

He smiled oh so cockily. "You lookin' to leave this here boat?

"Yes."

He stopped smiling. "Oh."

_Sucks to be him._

_I agree._

He really did seem rather put off by it.

_You should have apologized; that was rather rude, you know!_

But I really didn't care. I went to go find Britt again. With any luck, she wasn't being forced upon by anyone.

***

Baa baa, Black Sheep, Baa baa baa. Baa baa Black Sheep, Step in front of this car. Baa Baa Black Sheep, Baa baa baa. Baa baa black sheep, Ram your fricken head into a wall.

I really hate those sheep. They never SHUT UP!!!

_You could ask them to stop._

_Nobody asked you._

_Do they ever need to?_

_Quite._

But they just _love_ Britt.

_You could ask her to ask them to stop._

_That would be too easy._

_Would you prefer to take a chainsaw to them?_

_It would certainly relieve stress..._

_I'm going to just stop talking to you right now..._

***

Whitefall. That is Patience's planet. God what a heap. It's just... desert and sky. At least we'll leave the sheep here.

***

Twelve hours later, we find out that this wasn't going to be so easy. And, it wasn't from Patience's end.

_As if they couldn't bloody divine it by the bloody title._

_But where's he suspense in that?_

_Why do we need suspense?_

_To make a good story._

_Why not just a better story? Isn't this one good enough as is?_

_Well, since _I'm_ here, then yes._

_Narcissist._

_Thank you, Granger._

It was, if you can believe, from the stupid _sheep_!

They refused to let Britt go, or to be separated from her in any way at all. You know the world has gone to muffins when you are defending yourself against a horde of fricken _sheep_!!!

_Say, can sheep look up?_

_Of course they can, Ron._

_I'm not sure, 'Mione. They sure don't look like they can..._

_Honostly, you two. You're thinking of _dogs_, which, coincidentally, actually can look up. Really, you two._

See, we made contact with Patience- This old braud that looked like a prune- via wave, so she came down with a cursory posse of a good dozen men. All armed, I might add.

_Seriously; I died already, and I was scared of those guys._

_And that's saying something._

You know things have gone to Hell when a six foot tall guy in a Top-Hat gets drop-kicked off of a horse by a _sheep_.


End file.
